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Homecoming: Chapter 4
The first thing David was aware of was the smell. Packed earth and must and the unmistakable coppery tang of blood assailed him as he slowly came to. He found himself lying on his stomach as his eyes gradually acclimated to the darkened room, dim light filtering through the one small and dirty window that wasn't boarded up.
Some sort of cellar? He tried to reach a hand out to push himself up to a sitting position, but found his arms tightly bound behind his back, the ropes biting into his wrists all the while.
How long have I been out? David shifted and rolled his body slightly...
"GYAAAH!"
...and immediately regretted it as he jostled his wounded shoulder. Pain and memory flooded the man's mind as he could do little more than gasp and stare at the ceiling. It was all coming back to him: being pulled into Bryn Bresail and then hunted by Thalo...and how the Sidhe's countenance suddenly shifted during the fight. In one moment, Thalo had gone from amused indifference to cold-blooded ruthlessness.
Had the Sidhe sensed he was one of the Order after all? Try as he might, David couldn't recognize Thalo's name as any noted enemy, though admittedly his injuries were taking away his focus. He ran his tongue over the dried blood on his lips where he had bitten himself during the attack.
If I don't tend to this shoulder soon, it's going to get infected... A weak chuckle escaped David, turning into coughing as the reason and the absurdity of his situation finally struck him.
I'm home. I'm not going to live long enough for infection... As if to hammer the point, the bulkhead door of his prison opened. Staring down at him from the top of rough stone stairs were three men and a young woman. "You owe me a guilder, Robert..." One of the men flashed a grin at the one standing next to him. "...it's still alive."
"Cedric..." The other man who wasn't Robert spoke, sighing with exasperation. "...leave him be. Mum's comin' around."
And pushing past her son and nephews now was a woman in her late sixties. Her features were haggard but she eyed the bound man with cold satisfaction. As much as he wanted to, David found himself unable to look away.
"Moira," He finally found his voice, low and resigned. "It's been a long time."
In response, Moira only smirked. She turned to the men. "Say hello to your uncle, lads..."
David felt their eyes on him more rather than seeing them. Two of the men (the ones David assumed were Robert and Cedric) shared the same look of triumph as Moira. The girl stared at him with a mixture of morbid fascination and disgust, a hand reassuringly resting on one of the pistol butts tucked at her side. Only the last man, the one who called Moira "Mum" looked at David with anything close to pity.
"This can't be right..." Owen shook his head, wanting desperately to disbelieve but failing. The man in the cellar looked no older than himself. "A cousin -- a very distant cousin maybe. He's too young. He can't be--"
"Quiet, Owen." Moira's eyes bore into David's. "Tell them. Tell them what you are."
"Moira--"
